


find my way back to you

by ariadne_dionysia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bisexual Character, Bisexual Male Character, Canon Compliant, Gay Seamus Finnigan, M/M, POV Dean Thomas, dean thomas is bisexual and no one can convince me otherwise, give us gay characters in hp you cowards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-05-28 11:59:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 20,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15048512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariadne_dionysia/pseuds/ariadne_dionysia
Summary: August, 1997. The Second Wizarding War has officially begun; muggleborns are being hunted down, and it feels like the entire wizarding world is sliding quickly into chaos. Hogwarts is under the control of Death Eaters working through Severus Snape, and with Dumbledore gone and Harry missing, it seems that there's no one left to help.And yet, in a time of darkness, fear, and death, all hope isn't lost. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan have been friends since the day they met each other. But when Dean goes on the run and Seamus returns to Hogwarts, the two realize that maybe their friendship was more than either of them realized. "Find My Way Back To You" follows Dean and Seamus through their separate journeys on the run and under the Snape Regime at Hogwarts as each of them face danger, torture, loss, and death to find each other again.This fic is designed to fit in Harry Potter canon, and does use dialogue in a few scenes from "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" to keep with this.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> for pride month 2018!  
> i will be your friend forever if you leave comments below, i love reading comments and look at every one i get. also feel free to come say hi to me on my tumblr, lezziebennett-writes !  
> i don't really have much else to write except i had a lot of fun writing this and i hope you have a lot of fun reading it! enjoy!

August 1997

It was raining when Dean arrived.   
He was wrapped up in his robes, cloak pulled up over his head to protect himself from the rain, looking far too bundled up for a summer day. His blue umbrella was bending slightly under the pressure of the torrential downpour, and with Dean already stooped over to try and keep himself underneath it, the scene could’ve been almost comical if it wasn’t for the overwhelming feeling in Seamus’ chest that Dean was about to say something that he wasn’t going to like.   
“What the bloody hell are you doin’ still standin’ out there?” he demanded, and grabbed his best friend by the elbow, towing him into the entryway of the Finnigan house. There, once again, Dean had to stoop; the Finnigans were not a tall bunch, and the low-hanging ceiling had Dean ducking his head so he didn’t hit it on the doorframe as he stumbled inside. He put down his umbrella, letting it drip water on the floor, and reached his hand up to brush through his dark hair. A few droplets were scattered by his hand, and Seamus blinked as a few of them hit him in the face. His hand was still on Dean’s arm, holding onto him tightly. They both looked down at his hand, and he let it drop hastily before he looked back up at Dean. “What are you doin’ here?”  
“I needed to see you.” Seamus felt his heart swell a bit at Dean’s words, and looked up to meet his gaze again. But Dean’s brows were furrowed with worry, and a panic that Seamus didn’t totally understand. “I can’t stay long. Are your parents here?”  
Seamus shook his head. “Nah, mate, ‘t’s just me here,” he told him. “Come in, I’ll put on some tea or something for us.”  
Dean glanced behind him at the door before he looked back at Seamus and nodded his head. “Okay.” He kicked his boots off quickly, leaving them to make a puddle in the entryway, but left his robes on as he followed Seamus into the kitchen. Seamus couldn’t stop glancing at him, couldn’t stop looking at him. Dean looked thinner than when he’d last seen him, he looked anxious. Seamus couldn’t blame him; everyone had been in hell the last few months, uncertain whether or not to stay or what to do. His own parents had talked more than once about leaving, and Seamus would be lying if he hadn’t let the thought cross his mind more than once. But in the end, it always came down to this, to Dean. His best friend would need him by his side, and he wouldn’t leave him. They had done everything together since they’d sat down beside each other at the Gryffindor table. This would be no different than that. They would get on the Hogwarts Express together just as they had every year since, and whatever it was the future brought for them, they would face it together. They were best friends. It was the least that was expected of him, and the bare minimum of what Seamus was ready to do for Dean.   
He put the kettle on and turned to look back at Dean, hovering awkwardly by the counter looking distinctly like he did not belong. “What’s goin’ on, mate, you’re scaring me.”  
Dean paused a moment to chew on his lower lip before his gaze fixed on Seamus. “I’m leaving, Seamus.” He glanced back at the door. “I’m going on the run.”  
Seamus felt his heart skip a beat, and not in a good way. He looked at Dean and just stopped-- stopped moving, stopped breathing, stopped thinking, stopped everything. Because this was Dean, his best friend in the entire world, and he was running away for the first time in his life. “Why?”  
Dean shook his head. “I can’t go back to Hogwarts,” he told him. “Things are starting to get crazy for muggleborns, and I don’t want to get caught in it. Going back to Hogwarts isn’t going to be safe for me. And I don’t want to risk going home in case they go looking for me. I know some people who are going on the run too; I’m going to join up with them and figure it out from there.” His gaze was apologetic, which Seamus didn’t understand, and more mournful than he expected, which confused him even more. Dean took a half step towards him before he stopped himself. “I don’t know when I’ll see you next. It could be a long time. So this is goodbye.”  
Seamus met his gaze for a moment before he let out a small huff and shook his head. “Don’t be daft,” he said. “I’m coming with you. You’re not going anywhere without me, you tosspot.”   
“Seamus--”  
But Seamus was shaking his head, moving to step past Dean back into the hall. “I just need to pack a bag and then I’m ready to go,” he said. “And write a letter to Mam and Da. They’ll understand--”  
Dean stepped away from his place by the counter, putting out an arm to stop Seamus from passing. “Seamus, no.”  
“I’m coming with you. Thick as thieves, we are. You never hear of Frodo goin’ anywhere without Sam. That’s right,” he added with a decisive nod. “I read those books. And the point is I’m going with you. You’re my best mate, Dean. If you expect me to let you walk out that door without me, clearly you don’t know me as well as you thought you did.”  
“Seamus, you can’t come with me.” Dean’s voice was strained to the point of being in pain, which was the only thing that made Seamus stop. He looked up at Dean, and his look of determination faded as he saw at the expression on Dean’s face. His shoulders slumped slightly.   
The clock on the wall chimed, and he did his best not to wince at the sound.  
“You don’t want me to come with you...” The words were painful to speak. “...do you?”  
Dean’s eyes had gotten bright, and after a moment-- a moment he seemed to battle, to recoil against, lips pursing to keep himself from making any sound before he was ready-- he shook his head. “No,” he murmured. “I don’t want you coming with me.”  
Seamus’ mouth opened and closed several times as his heart thundered. He blinked rapidly to clear his eyes. He shook his head. He huffed a few deep breaths. Still, his heart pounded. Still, he felt ready to cry. He felt heartbroken, and he didn’t understand it. He hadn’t felt like this in a long time, he hadn’t felt like this since Dean had started spending more time with Ginny, since the two of them had started dating, leaving Seamus in the dust. Alone. There was never one without the other with the two of them until then. They’d promised to never let anything separate them after that, but here Dean was, ready to say goodbye to him, ready to leave him behind once again.  
And they both knew, even without them saying it, that there was a chance Dean wouldn’t come back.   
“Why can’t I come with you?” he finally managed to ask, the words stumbling from his mouth. He touched Dean’s arm, and once again, Dean looked down at the contact between the two of them like he’d never been touched before. “Dean… you’re--”  
“You can’t come with me,” Dean repeated, though the way he said it felt like it was more for his benefit than Seamus’ that he spoke the words. “I don’t want you to.”  
“Why not?”  
Dean shook his head, looking pained again and suddenly very close to crying. “Seamus…”  
“Why can’t I come with you?” he demanded again. “I wouldn’t slow you down. I know I’m not as smart as you are, but I’m good in a fight, and you could use someone that’s got your back. And who better for that than me? I’ve had your back for years, no one’s better at it than me. No one cares about keeping you safe more.” His gaze softened, more imploring than anything else, and his grip on Dean’s arm tightened a fraction. “You’re my best friend; I love you. I’ll protect you, I promise.”  
Dean reached a hand up to hastily wipe at his eyes. “I love you too,” he mumbled. Seamus nodded; his heart was pounding in his chest. He didn’t know Dean could make his heart ache.   
“So let me come.”  
Dean closed his eyes. Seamus watched the creases in his forehead bend downwards as he frowned, watched every little detail of his face and held his breath. In his head he could see Dean saying yes, he could see running upstairs and packing a suitcase, he could see late nights on the road with the two of them together. It wouldn’t be easy, it would be hell in many ways, on the run, but it would be the two of them. Say yes, he pleaded silently, watching the movement beneath Dean’s eyelids as he seemed to look for something that only he could see. Say yes.   
Dean finally opened his eyes, and Seamus felt his heart jump and sink at the same time as he met his gaze. Dean sighed softly, and after a moment’s pause, he stepped forward. His hands rested on Seamus’ shoulders. His fingers moved to cup Seamus’ cheek. Seamus couldn’t let his gaze drop from Dean’s, even as Dean’s dropped, stealing glances at his mouth. Seamus swallowed hard; he wasn’t sure why his mouth was dry. He wasn’t sure why his heart was pounding, other than he’d never been close to Dean like this before. He’d never had anyone look at him like this before. And he couldn’t explain it, but he didn’t want Dean to ever stop.   
“I’ll write to you when I can,” Dean whispered. They were in their own space, their own world, and Seamus felt like it could be shattered any second by the slightest noise. His hand was still on Dean’s arm, and he found his other hand had moved to take a handful of Dean’s robes, though he wasn’t sure how long he’d been holding him. He just didn’t want him to go, didn’t want to let him go. Dean tried to force a smile, even as his lower lip quivered. “Try not to blow anything up while I’m gone, yeah?”  
“Dean--”  
He didn’t even know what he was going to say. He didn’t care, either. Dean leaned down, tilting Seamus’ chin up with his fingers against his jaw, and kissed him. Seamus had never been kissed before, not by anyone. Dean’s mouth was rougher than he’d thought it would be, in absentminded daydreams, and the stubble on his cheeks scraped against Seamus’ face as he kissed him. There was energy behind it, force and passion and a longing that felt years in the making; Seamus was there to witness it, it felt like, he was no longer in his body to participate. He was just there, with a boy, a boy that he’d known for what felt like his whole life, and that boy was doing something he’d never thought he’d do. And in a moment, in a kiss, Seamus knew he was ruined for anyone else.   
And in a moment, Dean was gone.   
Seamus still stood, hands outstretched to hold him, lips still parted in the shape of Dean’s, heart pounding and eyelids fluttering. He could hear Dean’s steps in the hall, hear his boots squeak against the floor, the door open and close behind him, and he just stood there. It was like an explosion, in the instant before the spark went off, when he knew it was coming, but he didn’t do anything. He just stood and let it happen, let the ash and sparks snap at his face, blinked away the aftermath when it was over. He was stunned, he was confused. But he was certain more than anything that nothing, no obliviation or amnesia or hit to the head or anything in the world could make him forget the feeling of Dean Thomas’ lips against his own.


	2. Chapter 2

September 1997

Dean had been sitting for three hours trying to figure out what the hell to say.   
It was Seamus’ birthday. Last year, he’d been planning to celebrate this birthday with something special, something insane to make Seamus laugh. He’d thought of fireworks, he’d thought of painting the entire common room Seamus’ favorite color, he’d thought of getting him the most embarrassing set of pyjamas and making Seamus wear them around all day with a horrible birthday hat on. He’d thought of other things too, more romantic things, more inappropriate things. Would Seamus have let him kiss him on his birthday? He didn’t know. He’d ambushed him before he’d left, kissed him without asking, given him a gift he didn’t know if Seamus wanted. And there was a chance that he wouldn’t ever know.   
But God, did he want to know.   
He finally stopped twirling his pen between his fingers and tried to write something. His pen tapped against the parchment. He cleared his throat, drew a little flower on his palm, and put his pen to paper. 

Seamus,   
I’m not totally sure you want to hear from me, but I wanted to let you know that I’m alright, and that I’m safe. It’s been harder than I thought it would be, and I miss you more than I thought I would

He couldn’t write that. Dean sighed and crumpled up the paper, tossing it aside before he smoothed a fresh piece on his lap and tried again. 

Seamus,  
It’s your birthday today. Of course you know that, but I wanted you to know that I didn’t forget it was your birthday today. I wish I could be there with you. I had so many stupid plans and ways to embarrass you, and I don’t get to do any of them. We’ll just have to celebrate extra next time, you know your birthday’s an annual thing, so I’ll get another chance.   
I want you to know that I’m alright. I smell like forest and dirt and look like a mess. I’ve got a beard going. It’s awful, I hate it, it’s so scratchy. But somehow razors and shaving cream didn’t make it into my emergency fleeing bag, so here I am, bearded.   
I’ve got nothing to give you this year, or at least nothing that my owl can discreetly deliver to you, so I’m including with this a few sketches of things that I’ve seen while I’ve been traveling that I thought you would like. Along with a couple sketches of how I’m planning on making up for missing your birthday. Before you panic, they’re not dirty, or anything like that. Well, some of them are dirty, but only with dirt since I’m living like a camper, and it’s awful out here.

This letter was terrible. Dean wanted to throw it away, but there was already a scattering of crumpled up attempts around him, and he was nearly out of paper. So he sighed, scratched his nose with his pen, and finished writing. 

Anyway, this got really off track. But I’m okay, I miss you, and I hope your birthday is alright. Tell Parvati that she’s supposed to hug you for me. She’s good at hugging.   
Dean


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: implications of torture

September 1997

It was the first birthday Seamus had had since first year that he hadn’t spent with Dean.   
It shouldn’t be as weird as it was. It shouldn’t make him sad as much as it did. He sat in the Transfiguration classroom and completely ignored the lecture that McGonagall was halfheartedly giving. No one was focusing these days. Things were worse than Seamus had ever imagined they would be. Snape-- no, Headmaster Snape-- was a non-entity, and his reign over Hogwarts was mostly controlled by the Carrow twins. Seamus had class with them after this, and he couldn’t even pretend he was looking forward to it. If he was honest, he didn’t look forward to much these days.   
He only looked back when Parvati touched his arm. He looked over at her with a small “hm?”, and she tried to force a small smile. He realized everyone was packing up their things.   
“Time to go,” she told him, sliding her notebook into her bag and rising from her chair. Lavender was bouncing a little bit next to their table, anxious as she waited for Parvati. The two held onto each other’s hands tightly, and Parvati reached out a hand for Seamus when he finally rose. He took it, and let Parvati tow him out of the classroom.  
No one spoke as they went down the halls to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. There was hardly any talking at all, only the sound of footsteps. If anything, it only made Seamus’ spirits sink even lower. The common room felt empty too, silent. Harry wasn’t there, and Ron, and Hermione, and Dean. The boys’ dormitory was like a graveyard, and he and Neville felt like the only ones in there. He missed Dean’s laugh. It filled a room, filled his mind. He thought of Dean’s mouth against his again, the scratch of his stubble against his cheek, how warm and soft his hands had been cupping his face. His bones ached just thinking about it. He half closed his eyes, trying to conjure up the image of Dean’s face in his mind.   
“Seamus.” His eyes widened again, and he nearly smacked right into the door before Parvati pulled him aside. She was frowning at him, brows creased with worry. “Are you okay?”  
Seamus nodded. “Yeah,” he said, though his voice trembled slightly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”  
“Okay…” Parvati didn’t believe him, but she let it go. They entered the classroom together, though Seamus let Parvati’s hand drop from his. Lavender had done the same, too worried that the Carrows would pick them out from the crowd to torment, as they usually did. He sat down at his desk and glanced over at Parvati and Lavender before turning his attention to the front of the classroom, where the Carrows were waiting side-by-side, hideous shadows of each other.   
Amycus tapped his wand against his hand slowly as he watched the class file in. Looking for students to pick on, trying to find the weak links. Seamus didn’t know whether to avert his eyes or not. Making eye contact would be defiance, but avoiding would be an invitation. He hadn’t figured out which was worse yet.   
Ernie Macmillan sat down next to him. He was always so nervous looking, though it was even worse now that they were in class with the Carrows. But he looked over at Seamus expectantly today until Seamus finally looked at him. Ernie offered him a small smile. “Happy birthday, mate.”  
Seamus’ smile was reluctant, but genuine. “Thanks, Ernie.” Seamus couldn’t pretend it didn’t brighten his spirits a bit to hear someone wish him a happy birthday. He looked back up at the front of the classroom to find Alecto looking at him.   
“Did I just hear that it was someone’s birthday?” she said, taking a step closer to his desk. Seamus did his best not to swear, though he desperately wanted to. Alecto smiled at him. “Seamus Finnigan, come to the front of the classroom, please. Zabini, you too.” Seamus glanced across the classroom, where Zabini was doing his best not to cringe. No one liked the Carrows, regardless of whether or not they shared the same beliefs. Seamus stood, though, and after a moment, Zabini did too. Alecto paced back and forth in front of the classroom as the two walked up to join her. “Now for today’s lesson…”

 

\- - - - - - - - 

 

Every part of him hurt. Seamus curled up in his bed and bit his lower lip, trying not to cry. It was without a doubt the worst birthday he’d ever had. The rest of the day had been horrible, shuffling from class to class, unable to skip without anyone noticing. So he’d sat uncomfortably through Charms, barely managed to keep himself upright during Potions, before finally skipping dinner and coming back up to the Gryffindor dormitories. He’d drawn the curtains around his bed, and hadn’t moved since.   
He didn’t even know what time it was. The curtains blocked out all of the light, and he ignored whatever sounds there were. He didn’t want to know if anyone was in the room with him. He didn’t want to be too self-conscious to cry. If he needed to cry, he’d cry. If he needed to scream, he’d scream. He was too tired to filter himself, too hurt to control himself. And if none of those were good enough reasons, it was his birthday, and he didn’t care.   
“Seamus?” Neville’s voice was very quiet. Seamus sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve.   
“Not now.”  
“Seamus, please?” He paused when he heard Lavender, and lifted his head from his pillow. He sat up slowly, grimacing, before poking his head out from behind his curtains.   
Neville, Parvati, Lavender, Ernie, Hannah, and Susan were all standing there by the door. Susan had a cake, and Seamus honestly could’ve burst into tears right then and there.   
“Can we come in?”  
Seamus nodded, drawing back his curtains before sitting back down again. The others all came over to his bed and sat down, crowding onto the mattress. It was pretty crowded with seven of them jammed onto his bed, but it didn’t matter. Susan balanced the cake on Seamus’ lap and smiled at him.   
“We had some help from the kitchens,” she told him. He smiled at her gratefully before looking around at the others.   
Ernie was looking at him guiltily. “Mate, I’m so sorry,” he said. “They heard me say…”  
“You didn’t sacrifice me, Ernie, it’s fine.” Seamus didn’t blame him. It had been an act of kindness from Ernie, and there was nothing wrong with that. It was the Carrows’ fault, and no one else’s.   
Though Seamus couldn’t say that Zabini was entirely without blame.   
Hannah passed out forks, and the seven of them sat there, eating the cake directly off the plate without even cutting it into slices. This was not a slice kind of day, and Seamus didn’t want to be self conscious about the amount of cake he was jamming into his face. Everyone was talking, and Seamus halfheartedly listened, chiming in now and then and smiling at the others. It was more than he could’ve expected, more than he could’ve hoped. He just wished it didn’t feel like something was missing.   
But it was. There should’ve been eight people jammed on the bed. Seamus liked Harry and Ron well enough, but their absence wasn’t painful. Dean should be there, though. He should be jammed in next to Seamus on the bed, not Parvati. Lavender seemed to notice Seamus’ train of thought. She met his gaze and smiled sadly at him.   
“I’m sorry he’s not here,” she said quietly. Seamus shook his head and tried not to look bothered.   
“He couldn’t be,” he said as firmly as he could. “I just hope he’s safe.”  
“Who, Dean?” Neville was slow on the uptake, but after seeing the others give him exasperated looks, he jumped so much he nearly knocked the plate off of Seamus’ lap. He reached over and grabbed his bag, pulling it over and rummaging around in it before producing a letter, which he presented to Seamus. “This was here for you,” he said. “I thought it was from your mum, that’s why I grabbed it, to bring it, but it’s--”  
“Dean.” Seamus would recognize Dean’s handwriting anywhere. He dropped his fork and tore the envelope open, scanning the contents of the letter so fast that his brain barely registered them. There were pictures too, sketches of things that Dean had seen and places he’d been to. Seamus poured over them hungrily, trying to absorb each and every detail. He smiled, looking at the dirt-stained pages. He was certain he was going to cry now. He looked up at the others, who were all waiting for him to say something, worry in their expressions. Seamus realized he really was crying. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “He’s okay,” he said. They all let out breaths of relief; Parvati smiled, and Neville shook Seamus’ knee gently. Seamus looked back down at the letter. Dean had written this today for his birthday. He was okay. He was alive. And for one second, Seamus felt like things might actually be okay when this was all over.


	4. Chapter 4

October 1997

Dean wanted to be home. It was some time in October, though the exact date he wasn’t certain about, but the leaves had started to change and the weather was getting colder. It wasn’t a pleasant sort of time, it was more lonely than anything else. He got up, ate a small breakfast, and started to move again. He didn’t stay in one place for long, didn’t talk to people, didn’t stay in town. He had his backpack, with a sleeping bag and his sketchpad, and he’d go into whatever town was closest to get himself food before he’d be out again.   
He apparated to some random location every morning, and walked about until he found himself somewhere that was nice enough to remain for a while, and then he’d sketch. It didn’t matter what he drew, didn’t matter if it was a landscape, a still life, or something else. He was just bored, and drawing was the only thing that could really take his attention off of how lonely he was.   
It was a rare sunny day leaning against a parking barrier, looking out over the lot to the water, that had him missing home the most. Home was a bit of a muddled image for him, really. Home was home, with his sisters and his mother. Home was drinking tea and watching television and sleeping until someone jumped on his bed to wake him up. Home was walking along the beach.  
But home was also the Gryffindor common room, laughing with the rest of the boys, staying up late and pretending that curfew was a suggestion rather than a mandate. It was stuffing his face with pudding and sweets in the Great Hall, it was making fun of Divination just to annoy Lavender and Parvati. It was watching Seamus smile, draping his legs over Seamus’ lap, doodling absent-minded sketches of Seamus in the margins of his notebooks.   
He missed all of them. He missed his sisters, he missed his mother, he missed the boys. He missed Seamus. He thought of the last time they’d seen each other, showing up at Seamus’ house and kissing him. He’d been so cowardly with that. He’d thought it was brave when he’d done it, and maybe it partially was. It was brave to kiss him. It was cowardly to run.   
Dean focused idly on shading in the broken down truck in his sketch until he heard a car rumbling down the long road towards him. He got up hastily, jamming his sketchbook into his bag, and hurried across the lot towards the beach. It was a bit of a climb down, and he stumbled more than once on the path as he ran. It was unlikely that Snatchers would be traveling around in a car, sure, but Dean couldn’t risk it. He couldn’t risk anything these days, he’d already had too many close calls. He hurried down the path and looked around once his feet hit sand for a good place to hide.   
He turned, and there was a goblin looking at him.   
Dean couldn’t pretend that he didn’t jump, because he did. The goblin wasn’t even that close to him, he was half concealed behind a large stone, but still, Dean could see him looking in his direction. He let out a breath, trying to get his heart to stop racing with fear, and shook his head.   
“What the hell--”  
“Dean?” There was a pause, and then Dirk Cresswell’s head appeared over the top of the rock.  
Dean had only met Dirk a few times. When he’d first gotten his Hogwarts letter, Dirk was the one that had helped him to get the money he needed to buy his books for Hogwarts. He was a muggleborn too, and he worked in the Goblin Liaison office for years. He was kind, and witty, and he was one of the first wizards to make Dean feel like he could properly belong. He’d met with him again, after his fifth year, to talk about the possibility of coming to work in his office, and that was the last time he’d seen Dirk in person, though they’d corresponded on and off for the better part of Dean’s time as part of the magical community. Dirk let out a breath and smiled at him when he recognized Dean’s face, and Dean stepped towards him.   
“Bloody hell, I thought you were a Snatcher.”  
Dirk took Dean’s hand and pulled him into a one-armed hug. “Not in a million years.” He released Dean and held him at arm’s length to look him over. “You look terrible. You’ve been on the run too, then?” Dean nodded, and Dirk patted his shoulder. “So have we. Guys, I’d like you to meet Dean Thomas. Dean, this is Griphook--” He gestured to an unfamiliar goblin standing behind the rock. “--Ted Tonks--” He pointed out an unfamiliar man, broad-shouldered and fair who looked to be about fifty or so. “--and our observant friend, Gornuk.” Gornuk, the goblin that had peeked out at him from behind the rock, was the first goblin that Dean had ever seen smile. He nodded his head to Dean.   
“Nice to meet you,” he told them, somewhat nervously.   
“You been running with anyone else, Dean?” Ted asked. He looked like a dad. There was something about him that just seemed paternal in the way he looked at Dean, with concern and kindness at the same time. Dean shook his head, and Ted waved him over. “Stick with us, then.”  
“Really?”  
Dirk nodded. “Yeah, ‘course. Gotta’ keep an eye out for our own, right?”  
Dean smiled. “Y-Yeah. Yeah, totally.”


	5. Chapter 5

December 1997

_Dean,_  
I don’t know if this’ll ever actually reach you or not, since I don’t know where you are, but in case it does, it’s your birthday today. Last year I went to your house for your birthday, and your sisters kept hanging mistletoe around the house to make it like some sort of kissing maze for me to get through. I don’t think I’ve ever managed to avoid so many doorways in my life while I was there, but the more I think about it, the more I wonder if it was meant for me to kiss them or you. As I remember it, you were always there laughing at the doorways whenever I came around.   
I wish you’d told me. I wish you’d told me sooner. I wish you’d told me at all.   
I don’t know how you’re spending your birthday this year, but I hope it’s somewhere warm. I’d send along your gift, but I can’t manage to get enough owls to carry it, so you’ll just have to come get it yourself. I put a bow on my head and everything. I look fantastic. You’d take one look and do that full body laugh you do that makes you look like a complete idiot. Which’d be brilliant, really, because I miss hearing your dumb laugh. I’ve been thinking of jokes to make you laugh when you get back to pass the time. They’ve gotten progressively worse as time has gone by. I’d tell you one of them, but then I wouldn’t get to enjoy you make that agitated face when I make a shit joke, and what fun is there if I miss out on that?  
I miss you. Things aren’t the same without you around. Even the pudding isn’t as good; you’ll have to tell me how you managed to ruin the pudding for me when you get back. You know I love that pudding.   
Seamus 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: some references to torture

December 1997  
“Don’t hesitate.” Seamus didn’t move. No one moved. Daphne Greengrass was staring at the first year from across the room, looking completely terrified. She’d hit Seamus with a curse a few months ago, it’s not like she was afraid to do it. She’d been sure then. She didn’t seem as certain now. Amycus was looking more and more agitated with Daphne as she continued to just stare at the first year. “Greengrass, I said don’t hesitate. Hit him.”  
“I-I…” Daphne’s wand trembled in her hand, and she looked ready to drop it. Seamus had never seen a Slytherin hesitate. They all seemed perfectly fine with it, but Daphne… Daphne was starting to make Seamus question that all Slytherins were just evil. “I don’t want to.”  
Alecto sighed heavily, walking over to Daphne. She grabbed Daphne’s arm roughly and made her point her wand at the first year. “Say it.”  
“I-I don’t want--”  
“Do it.”  
“I can’t.” Daphne’s wand dropped from her hand. She looked scared and embarrassed as she bent hastily to pick it up. Her hands were shaking so badly that she couldn’t manage to lift it. Alecto made a noise of disgust.   
“You’re an embarrassment to your house and your family name,” Alecto sneered. “Get up.”  
“Come on, Daphne,” Pansy Parkinson hissed. Seamus didn’t want to see any more. Pansy had stepped forward too, bending to haul her friend up from the floor and shove her wand back into her hand. “You can do it.”  
“I don’t want to.” Daphne kept shaking her head.   
The bell rang loudly to signal the end of class, and Seamus could feel the collective breath of relief pass through the classroom. Everyone was already rushing towards the door. Lavender put her arm out, and the first year scampered over to her, letting Parvati and Lavender shield him as the three of them hurried out of the classroom. Seamus looked over at Daphne. Alecto had grabbed her arm, and was whispering something into her ear. She shoved her away, and Daphne hurried back over to her desk, jamming her notebook into her bag before hurrying for the door. Seamus grabbed his bag and hurried after her. “Hey, Greengrass, wait up.”  
“I don’t want to talk to you, go away.” Daphne quickened her steps, but she was shorter than Seamus, significantly so, and it didn’t take much for Seamus to catch up to her. He touched her shoulder, but she flinched away from him. “Go away.”  
“I just wanted to say that was brave in there.”  
Daphne paused, looking at him with her brows furrowed. She seemed almost offended, which Seamus didn’t understand until she spoke. “No, it was stupid,” she said harshly.   
“Then why’d you do it?” Seamus replied, shaking his head. “If you don’t care.”  
“You think I like what’s going on here?” she demanded. “I don’t. Plenty of us don’t. But I’m not stupid. I chickened out this time, but it’s not going to happen again.”  
Seamus’ brows furrowed, and he scoffed quietly. “Just when I was starting to think you might actually have a heart.”  
“How dare you.” Daphne scowled at him. “We’re trying to survive, just like you. Everyone I know is on their side, you think it’s easy for all of us to just flip and go against everyone we care about? I’m trying to make it through this, and if hexing a few first years gets me there, fine. They’ll survive. But so will I.” Pansy was waiting by the doors to the Great Hall for Daphne, looking furious with her friend. Daphne held onto her bag a little tighter and dropped her gaze to the floor. “Have a nice Christmas, Finnigan.”  
Seamus watched her hurry across the hall to rejoin Pansy, feeling more confused than ever. He’d never thought about it like that. And now that he was, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be. It was easy to find an enemy and hold them responsible for everything. It wasn’t as easy to accept the fact that some of them were caught in the crossfire just trying to make it through. He watched Pansy and Daphne disappear into the Great Hall before shaking his head and continuing across the hall again to where the others were waiting for him at the bottom of the steps.   
“Everything okay?” Neville asked. Seamus nodded, though he didn’t know if it was true or not. “What did Greengrass say to you?”  
Seamus shook his head. “I don’t know if you’d believe me if I told you…”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: death / torture references / blood

February 1998

“Run! _Run_ , come on!”  
Dean’s feet pounded against the ground as he sprinted through the forest. He couldn’t tell what the pounding in his ears was, whether it was his panicked footsteps, his frantic heartbeat, or the hexes of the Snatchers exploding around him. All he could think, all he could do, was run, run fast and hard until he was caught or until his legs gave out from beneath him. He caught the occasional glimpse of his companions as he ran-- Griphook’s stumbling run, Ted’s sandy hair, Dirk’s bronze skin, the glint of Gornuk’s dark eyes unfamiliarly wide with panic. They kept running, all of them, scattered throughout the forest, not daring to shout out to each other, not able to do more than focus on their flight.  
Leaves scattered beneath his feet as he half stumbled, half ran down a hill. His feet splashed through icy water in a stream as he sprinted through it. Dean wasn’t sure whether his feet were even touching the ground anymore, whether he was even still running. Whether his heart was still beating or if it was just the pounding of footsteps behind him that he was hearing in his ears.  
“Get him!”  
He was going to die.  
_“Stupefy!”_  
Something exploded by Dean’s head.  
_“Incarcerous!”_  
His legs stopped moving. He didn’t even know it was possible. He fell hard, his face slamming into the ground. There was dirt in his mouth and he could feel leaves and mud sticking to his cheeks. His nose felt warm, and not in a good way; he lifted his head, and there was blood on the ground. He’d broken his nose.  
Something dragged him backwards, and he screamed. He knew what happened with Snatchers; they’d heard enough stories about what happened with Snatchers to not have any hope. He couldn’t make himself focus on anything else, just trying to break free, trying to get himself loose from the ropes wrapped around him, constricting his breathing and holding him at the mercy of whoever was dragging him backwards. He could hear shouting, and the explosion of more spells cracking in the air around him. He saw a flash of green light strike out ahead of him.  
He saw Gornuk’s body hit the ground.  
He saw Dirk trying to break free from his own bonds. He wasn’t managing any better than Dean was, and he was screaming as loudly as he could manage, swearing up a storm at his captors. Dean watched him spit at one of the Snatchers, watched the man kick Dirk in the head with a furious exclamation of _“filthy mudblood!”_  
He couldn’t see Griphook or Ted.  
Dirk wasn’t moving anymore. It was just Dean and the Snatchers making any noise now-- the Snatchers thundering through the woods still throwing curses and shouting at each other, and Dean’s choked, panicked sobbing sounds. He didn’t even realize they were coming from him for a moment; only when he sucked in a breath of air and the sounds stopped did he realize they were coming from him. The part of him still clinging to his sense of dignity wanted to stop, wanted to stand tall, and strong, be proud as he died like Dirk had been. But the rest of him couldn’t stop thinking about his family, and Seamus, and all the people he wouldn’t get to say proper goodbyes to, who wouldn’t even know he was _dead._  
Someone grabbed him by the hood of his jacket, and he scrabbled in the leaves to try and break free of their grasp. It earned him a blow to the ribs that was marked by the sound of bones cracking and his loud, pained scream. The laugh of a few of the Snatchers followed quickly behind.  
Dean couldn’t meet their gazes. He wanted to be brave, he wanted to be strong, but he wasn’t. Not strong enough to look into the eyes of the people that had killed Dirk, Gornuk, and probably Ted and Griphook and who knew how many others before them. It was stupid for anyone to expect a noble death. Want one, of course, but the reality of it was anything but; Dean’s whole body shook as he cried, and he could taste the blood in his mouth from his broken nose. His body ached, his heart pounded in his chest, and each breath felt like it was going to be his last. The Gryffindor scarf wrapped around his neck felt like a painfully sick joke instead of the badge of honor, the reminder of home-- of Seamus, of Harry, of Ginny and the others-- that it had been before. He wasn’t brave. Nothing about the man crouching on the ground in front of half a dozen laughing Snatchers was brave, or noble, or strong. He was just a kid, just a teenager. And he was not ready to die. One of the Snatchers pressed their wand against his temple. He closed his eyes. He didn’t want the last thing he saw to be the dirty knees of the man who was going to kill him; he thought of Christmas with his family, his sisters, of all of them laughing and joking with him. Of the look on Seamus’ face, his lips slightly parted and his eyes still closed, as Dean had pulled away from kissing him…  
“Hang on, hang on.” There was a rustling and crackling of leaves in front of him. Dean thought he recognized the voice, but he didn’t dare open his eyes. Not yet. But someone grabbed his chin, and he finally did, looking up into the face of--  
“Belby, you fucking _shit--”_  
Belby wasn’t looking at him anymore. “This guy’s a friend of Potter. We should take him to Malfoy Manor, he could be of use--”  
One of the other Snatchers scoffed. “How could he possibly be of use?”  
Belby shook his head and glanced at Dean. “He might’ve seen Potter, we don’t know,” he said quickly. Dean wasn’t sure he was breathing. He wasn’t sure he could give himself the hope that he might actually live. That there was a chance, however small, that he could see his family again, see Seamus… “I don’t want to risk the Malfoys’ wrath, or the Dark Lord’s, if we kill someone that could be useful to finding Potter.” He looked back at Dean. “We should take him and the goblin back to Malfoy Manor. If they yield anything useful, we’ll be rewarded. All of us.”


	8. Chapter 8

February 1998

Seamus honestly didn’t have a clue how he’d gotten there. Last thing he could remember was passing out in the middle of Dark Arts class after he’d refused to torture a first year again. He remembered the pain, he remembered the sound of Amycus Carrow’s scorning voice and Alecto’s laugh, he remembered hearing Parvati yelling for them to stop, he remembered thinking that he could see the backs of his eyes as they rolled up into his skull. After that, it was nothing.  
But he woke up aching and found himself on the floor of a campsite in the middle of a giant room. There were hammocks everywhere, stuff spread about and a pseudo common room of chairs and pillows set up towards the center of the space. Parvati was sitting against the wall next to him, idly knitting as she waited for him to wake up. Seamus groaned softly and raised his hand gingerly to touch his temple.  
“Where am I?”  
Parvati looked at him and smiled a little bit. “The Room of Requirement,” she told him, and put her knitting down. “Nice, right? We’re going to be staying here instead of in the dormitories. It’s safer here, really, for all of us. How are you feeling?”  
Seamus sat up gingerly, and rubbed his face with his hand. “Like Hagrid’s been practicing tapdancing on top of me,” he told her with a small sigh. He looked around at the room again. “How many people are staying here?”  
“Thirty, right now, but more people will probably be coming in once we get the word out to the rest of the D.A..” She gestured to the hammock next to her. “That’s yours, if you want it. Probably would be best if you took it, honestly. You look terrible.”  
“Thanks for that.”  
Parvati gave him a look. “You know that’s not what I meant.” She got up and pulled a pile of papers from the hammock and placed it on the floor next to Seamus. “This was all the stuff in your nightstand, so I grabbed it for you. Thought you’d want it.”  
Seamus flushed as he looked down at the pile. It was nearly exclusively letters and sketches Dean had sent him, along with a few photographs. Parvati’s gaze was soft as she watched him pull the pile of papers into his lap quickly, like he could retroactively shield them from her gaze.  
“You miss Dean a lot.” It was an observation, not a question, but one that Seamus still felt the need to answer.  
“Yeah, ‘course I do.” He looked down at the papers self-consciously. He sniffed. “He just left. Just came and-- and, y’know, left.” He rubbed his hand through his hair and shook his head again. “Bastard. He left me and now all I feel is just this… I dunno’, this… just… I’m just being stupid, it doesn’t matter. But he just left, he didn’t even think about taking me with him, he just got up and disappeared.”  
Parvati touched Seamus’ shoulder, and he turned his head to look at her. “Have you ever thought that maybe that’s more than friendship talking?” she asked softly. Seamus’ heart dropped in his chest. He couldn’t stand meeting her gaze, so he looked away and spent a moment folding and unfolding the corner of one of Dean’s letters.  
“He kissed me.” He didn’t know why he said it, or why he was telling her this. Maybe because he hadn’t told anyone, maybe because he needed help, or maybe just because she was asking the right questions. He didn’t know. All of this was unfamiliar to him, and he was just trying to navigate his way through it without knowing the slightest bit about how the hell he was supposed to manage that. “And then he just left, we didn’t even get to talk about it. I don’t know why he did it.”  
Parvati paused a moment. “Well… what did it feel like?”  
Seamus looked at her, brows furrowing. “What?” He thought of Dean’s lips against his own, his hands cupping his face, his breath against his cheek. His hands clutching at Dean’s robes and praying to God that he would never pull away from him. “I-I dunno’, it felt… too fast. He charged out of the door before I could even stop him the second he did it.”  
Parvati hummed softly, and nodded her head at him. “Well… I mean…” She paused for a moment, lips pursing slightly as she tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear. “I kissed someone that I liked once. And I was horrified. And embarrassed, I mean, it was a girl, it was someone I knew wasn’t interested in me, it was a friend, and I just… honestly, I hid and avoided her like the plague for ages afterwards because I was worried what she was going to say if I talked to her.”  
Seamus hadn’t realized that his mouth was hanging open until Parvati gave him a look, and he hastily closed it again. “Was it Lavender?” he couldn’t help but blurt out. Parvati let out a breath and shook her head.  
“Merlin, no. It was Ginny, actually. Close your mouth, Seamus, bloody hell.” She sighed. “I liked her. And I wanted to kiss her, so I did. And she was actually really great about it, turned me down smoothly, let me talk it over with her until I figured things out for myself. But my point is that it didn’t mean nothing that he kissed you. What’s important right now, what’s best for you, is sorting through your feelings so when you see him again, you’ll know what you want to say to him and how you feel about him kissing you.”  
Seamus nodded his head slowly, rolling her words over in his head. He didn’t know how he felt about Dean kissing him. He knew that he’d wanted him to do it again, he knew it was over too quickly, he knew he’d wish he could go back to that moment and hold onto Dean a little tighter, kiss him a little longer, keep him with him before he could run off and vanish. He knew that he’d never felt as he did about Dean about anyone else, and that he would never feel that for anyone else. What he had with Dean was deeper, it had lasted longer, it had grown for so long and survived so much that he didn’t think that anything could break it apart. Except, perhaps, for Dean. Maybe he’d regretted kissing him. He wouldn’t know until he asked, and he couldn’t ask Dean now, wouldn’t ask him through a letter when there was a chance it would never reach him, or that he would never respond, or even get a chance to. Seamus looked up at Parvati and shook his head.  
“I can’t.” He brushed his hand through his hair again. “He’s been gone so long, maybe his feelings have changed. Maybe they weren’t feelings at all, maybe he was just scared and did it. I shouldn’t dump that on him, it wouldn’t be fair after all he’s probably been through out there. And what if he’s dead?” He hadn’t expected the words, hadn’t even planned on saying them until it was too late and they were already out. The crack in his voice embarrassed him, the words terrified him. He was trembling before he could even blink, and he shook his head several times like that could clear it. “What if he’s dead, Parvati? I-I wouldn’t even know, I might never-- I--”  
Parvati didn’t wait for him to keep stammering on. She put her arms around him, pulling his temple to her shoulder, and held onto him tightly. Dean had asked him to get a hug from Parvati, because she was good at hugs, and she was. It was the first time he’d felt properly safe in someone’s arms in months, and he held onto her as tightly as he could. And he cried. Seamus wasn’t much of a crier, had never been much of a crier in his whole life. But he cried there, against her shoulder, as she stroked her hand over his hair, smoothing it as she whispered reassurances that he couldn’t make himself believe. Because Dean could be dead. And Seamus wanted to believe that if Dean died, he would feel it. Dean was a part of him, Dean was half of who he was, he was his Dean, and he was Dean’s Seamus. It was both or neither, there was no other way about it. They were part of each other, and there was no one that Seamus loved more than he loved Dean. If he died, Seamus would know. He had to know, he tried to convince himself that he would know if Dean was gone.  
But he didn’t. He needed Dean back more than anything in the world, and he didn’t know if he’d ever get him back.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: torture / blood
> 
> this chapter contains dialogue from "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" because, y'know, it has to. i also wasn't totally sure about placement of people in the basement so i'm probably off with details but i tried.

Late March 1998

Dean had accepted that he was going to die.  
He didn’t know when he’d accepted this, exactly, and he didn’t know what had finally snapped him. He didn’t know if it was the starving, he didn’t know if it was the darkness of the cellar beneath Malfoy Manor, he didn’t know if it was watching Luna Lovegood lose hope alongside him. He didn’t know if it was the silence. He didn’t know if it was the pain, he didn’t know if it was the word _mudblood_ carved into his arm with a knife. He didn’t know where Harry was. But he should, apparently, and that’s what had screwed him over. That, and his blood. Dean didn’t know why they hadn’t killed him. It had taken him a while to decide, but after being introduced to more pain than he’d ever known in his life, after his panicked yelling every time they dragged him upstairs for ‘questioning’ or target practice, he started to think that it was purely to give the occupants of the manor some guilt-free amusement. He was a mudblood, after all. What did they care when he screamed? What did they care when he bled, except that his tainted blood was staining the floor? What did they care that he begged for death?   
He didn’t know what time of the day it was. But he heard someone coming down the stairs, and shoved himself back against the wall. He was shaking, unable to keep himself upright anymore, so he just sagged against the ropes keeping him secured firmly to the wall beside the others. He looked hastily back and forth as he tried to regain his footing, but he didn’t get a chance before the door opened, and the light blinded him just as quickly as it vanished. Dean didn’t move.   
Until he heard the scream from upstairs. He knew that scream. He knew what it meant, and he knew who it was. He could recognize that voice. It was--  
_“Hermione!”_ The question was answered for him before he could even move, and he heard a frantic scuffling as Ron Weasley tried to break free of some sort of bonds or restraints at the far end of the room. Dean’s heart jumped and sank in rapid succession. Harry was dead. If Ron was here, and Hermione was here, Harry was dead. It was all over. _“Hermione!”_  
“Be quiet!” Dean stopped breathing. He was certain that he was no longer breathing, and this, right here, was going to be the moment that he died. It was Harry. “Shut up, Ron, we need to work out a way--”  
_“Hermione! Hermione!”_  
“We need a plan, stop yelling-- we need to get these ropes off--”  
Dean couldn’t believe it. He was still cowered against the wall, waiting for it to be a joke. Waiting for the door to open and for Bellatrix Lestrange or Fenrir Greyback to come in through the door and drag him screaming upstairs for more entertainment. But they didn’t need him. They had Hermione. Every time she screamed, Dean shrunk a little bit more against the wall.   
Dean heard Luna’s delicate footsteps to his right. “Harry? Ron?”  
Ron finally stopped screaming. “Luna?”  
Dean could practically hear Luna light up. “Yes, it’s me!” she said quickly before she paused. “Oh no, I didn’t want you to be caught!”  
None of them did. Harry would be dead within an hour, and then it’d all be over. Harry’s voice cut off Dean’s darker musings. “Luna, can you help me help us get these ropes off?”  
“Oh yes, I expect so…” Luna said, and Dean could hear Luna shuffling about. “There’s an old nail we use if we need to break anything… just a moment…”   
Dean tried to search for the nail on the ground with his foot, but he stopped when Hermione screamed again. He knew what was happening up there. He could see it in his head, that was the worst part, he knew what every single scream meant. He wanted to be sick. Bellatrix’s voice mingled in with Hermione’s, but he couldn’t make out her words. He could imagine them, though. Taunting and cruel, searching for information that none of them had.   
Ron shouted over her screams. _“Hermione! Hermione!”_  
Dean could barely hear Luna over Ron’s screaming. “Mr. Ollivander? Mr. Ollivander, have you got the nail?” Her feet shuffled. “If you just move over a little bit… I think it was beside the water jug…” Dean closed his eyes and blessed Luna every day for being so calm in a crisis. He would’ve lost his mind or died without her. Luna shuffled about again, and her voice moved over to where Ron and Harry were. “You’ll need to stay still,” she told them, and started her work trying to get the ropes free. She’d tried, with the others, but they came down so regularly, mostly for him, that Dean had told her not to bother. Each time she cut through the bindings, someone was down within the hour to tie them up again, and Luna was the one that always got punished for it. Keeping the bindings on was the only way they could protect Luna, and Dean would die a hundred times over before he let them hurt Luna again. They would all be dead without her. He wouldn’t let her be killed because of him.   
“I’m going to ask you again! Where did you get this sword? _Where?_ ”  
“We found it-- we found it-- _please!_ ” Dean heard the nail clatter to the floor, and Ron’s large feet shuffling around again at Hermione’s pained and panicked screaming.   
“Ron, please stay still!” Luna whispered, and Dean could imagine her holding onto Ron’s arm to keep him from struggling. “I can’t see what I’m doing--”  
“My pocket!” Ron’s struggling stopped. “In my pocket, there’s a Deluminator, and it’s full of light!”  
It sounded like a load of shit to Dean. He had no idea what that was, though he’d wished a thousand times for a torch, which in his opinion was currently the best object in the world that he could think of, except perhaps a toilet. But a moment later, there was light in the room, and Dean was flinching as it all but blinded him. He squinted at Mr. Ollivander, still on the floor beside the water jug, too weak to actually stand and no threat to anyone, the only one permitted to be out of his binding against the wall, and Griphook on the wall beside him. The goblin groaned in pain when Dean flinched, as it tugged the rope even tighter around his thin wrist. Dean relaxed his arm a bit, and the pressure was relieved slightly, though he couldn’t do any more for the goblin than that.   
Luna set back to work again with the nail, freshly retrieved from the floor. “Oh, that’s much easier, thanks Ron.” She paused a moment to look back at the others, and caught Dean squinting at her. “Hello, Dean!”  
He didn’t get a chance to answer before Bellatrix was screaming again.   
“You are lying, filthy mudblood, and I know it! You have been inside my vault at Gringotts! Tell the truth, _tell the truth!_ ”  
Ron was screaming Hermione’s name the moment Hermione started screaming again, nearly drowning out the rest of Bellatrix’s words--  
“What else did you take? What else have you got? Tell me the truth or, I swear, I shall run you through with this knife!” Dean flinched again, and closed his eyes for a moment before he looked down at his own bloodstained shirt. He would be dead. He should be dead. He wished he was dead. He could feel the blood caked over his chest, across his face, along his arms… he wished he was dead. And he thought, painfully, that Hermione probably wished the same right now.   
“There!” The ropes fell to the floor at Ron and Harry’s feet. Ron immediately started running around like a wounded boar, desperate to find another way out. Luna came back over to Dean, and after a moment with the nail, cut him loose too. It was now or never; they escaped somehow, or they died trying. He rubbed his wrists and did his best not to fall over at Luna’s feet as she cut Griphook free.   
“Thanks.”  
Luna nodded at him and turned back to face Ron. “There’s no way out, Ron,” she told him. “The cellar is completely escape-proof. I tried, at first. Mr. Ollivander has been here for a long time, he’s tried everything.” They kept talking, they kept screaming, and Dean sagged slowly against the wall until he was sitting. He closed his eyes and waited to stop breathing. He didn’t open his eyes until he heard Draco Malfoy’s voice, and then everything went dark and quiet until Draco opened the door. Dean remained pressed up against the wall, not moving, just as Draco had demanded. He knew better than to try anything else, even when faced with a cowardly shit like Draco. Draco came in, and he grabbed Griphook, dragging the goblin along with him. Dean caught a glimpse of Griphook’s face, wide-eyed and frightened, and he tried to reach after him, but it was too late. The door slammed shut behind them, and Dean slumped back against the wall.   
Griphook wasn’t coming back. Dean doubted he would ever see the goblin again. That was it. It was over. He wanted to sob.   
But then the lights were back on, and he was staring at a house elf. Ron’s mouth fell open.   
_“Dob--”_  
Harry punched Run’s arm to stop him from shouting. Ron finally shut up, and all of them stared at the house elf in front of them, wide-eyed and slightly terrified looking, before the little creature looked up at Harry.   
“Harry Potter, Dobby has come to rescue you,” he squeaked.   
Dean had never thought his deliverance would be given to him by a house elf.   
“But how did you--?”  
Hermione screamed again, her voice shrill and pained. Dean was ready to join Ron in slamming against the door to try and reach her. To end it, no matter what that meant.   
“You can disapparate out of this cellar?” Dean was barely listening to Harry, or paying attention to the house elf; his eyes were fixed on the ceiling. “And you can take humans with you? Right. Dobby, I want you to grab Luna, Dean--” Dean finally looked at Harry. “--and Mr. Ollivander, and take them-- take them to--”  
“Bill and Fleur’s. Shell Cottage on the outskirts of Tinworth!”  
“And then come back. Can you do that, Dobby?”  
“Of course, Harry Potter.” Dobby ran over to Mr. Ollivander and took the old man’s hand before he looked expectantly at Dean and Luna, holding out his hand. Neither of them moved, but looked back at Harry and Ron.   
“Harry, we want to help you!” Luna whispered, and Dean nodded his head in agreement.   
“We can’t leave you here.” And he wouldn’t. He refused, he would die here and he’d accepted that. But Hermione would get free. Griphook would get free, if he was still alive. Ron and Harry would get out, and Dean was okay with dying here. He’d make Luna go, make her deliver the message he’d told her to take long ago just in case he didn’t make it, to his family and to Seamus-- he wasn’t going to see any of them again, was he?--and he would fight tooth and nail to get the rest of them out of here.   
But then Hermione screamed again, and Harry yelled right after her.   
“Go!” he shouted, and Dean could hear the desperation in his voice. “Go! We’ll follow, just go.”   
Dean wanted to protest, but Luna grabbed his hand and took Dobby’s, and that was it. He blinked, and they were gone.


	10. Chapter 10

Late March 1998

_Seamus,  
I know it’s a risk to send this to you, but I just wanted you to know that I’m okay, and send along a few sketches that I did that I thought you’d like. I don’t want to say too much about where I am in case this letter is intercepted, but the seashells probably give you a good hint. I miss you. Things are loud but unbelievably quiet here too; no one’s got a laugh like yours that can fill a room, and people aren’t laughing much these days anyway. I guess that’s the new normal for things, isn’t it?  
Please stay safe. And stay alert; lightning struck where I am not too long ago, and I think a full storm is on its way soon. If I’m being honest, I find that thought more worrying than reassuring. I’m ready to come home. I hate not being able to get into touch with any of you except for like this when I can. I know it’s like that for all of us right now, but I want to come home.  
Tell the others that I found the moon here, a little shabby but still in high spirits. How that’s possible in a time like this I have no idea, but it’s something I can admire, if not occasionally be agitated by or jealous of. It’s a complicated relationship, but when have my relationships with anything been simple?  
Again, stay safe. I miss you.   
Dean_


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: blood / tw: injury

May 1998

Every single part of his body hurt. Seamus could barely remember what had happened, only that it had been bad. He remembered Amycus Carrow yelling at him-- or was it at someone else? It all blurred together after a certain point-- and then pain in his face, and along his chest, and a tightness in his throat. He remembered Neville’s voice, though what Neville had shouted, he had no idea. The pain had stopped, and then he’d been here. Resting in his tent like it had all been some sort of bad dream. But all it took was one large breath to tell him that he was definitely not okay.   
“How you doin’ there, Seamus?” Neville came over, looking battered to hell, and Seamus felt momentarily sick. It was like he’d done it himself; he’d caused this. Neville’s left eye was swollen with an ugly purple bruise, his face cut in several places, and his hair a mess. But he looked happy to see Seamus-- as much as he could, with one good eye-- as he walked over to him. “Feeling any better?”  
“Maybe? I dunno’, this feels pretty awful.” He reached up to gingerly touch his face, and immediately wished that he hadn’t. Everything burned, everything stung. Neville put his hand on Seamus’ wrist and pushed his hand back down.   
“Don’t touch it, you’ll make it worse,” he scolded. He looked excited. Seamus couldn’t and wasn’t sure he wanted to understand it. But Neville glanced behind them before he leaned over slightly, so his nose was barely six inches from Seamus’ face. He grinned widely. “Harry’s been spotted.”  
Seamus’ heart dropped and jumped to the back of his throat almost simultaneously. “What?”  
Neville nodded frantically. “At Gringotts,” he said quickly. “The story’s in the news, it’s mental-- he escaped on a _dragon,_ Seamus. A _dragon._ ”  
“Bloody hell.” If it was possible, things outside of Hogwarts felt even more abstract now than they had before. Harry was out there somewhere, doing who knew what for a reason that none of them could fathom. And the rest of them? They were trapped in a demented loop of fear and torture in the guise of education. They were all in their own type of hell, no matter where they were.   
“He’ll be back,” Neville said, with such certainty that Seamus nearly believed him. “Harry, I mean. He’ll come back.”  
Seamus scoffed. “Why?” he asked. “He’s got no reason to. Ron and Hermione are both with him, aren’t they? They didn’t come back to school either.”  
“Well yeah, but we’re all here,” Neville said. “He wouldn’t just leave us.”  
Seamus rolled his eyes and immediately winced as his head spun. He grimaced. His head felt like it was full of little nails, poking him and prodding with each little movement. He took a slow breath and exhaled, then another. He wanted to go home. He wanted to sleep. He wanted Dean here. And he hated himself for that.   
“Seamus?”  
Seamus looked up and realized Neville was still watching him. “What?” he said. Neville had been talking, hadn’t he? Seamus didn’t know. Neville frowned at him.   
“Go wash up, mate,” he said. “You look terrible. I’m going to go see Abeforth in a while, do you want anything?”  
_Dean,_ said his mind stupidly. _I want Dean here._ He shook his head instead. “Just no more brisket, for the love of Merlin.” Neville chuckled, and Seamus managed to force a small smile at him before he got up slowly and wandered towards the bathroom. Everything hurt. Each step sent shocks of pain throughout his body, like he was being stitched together with pure electricity. He opened the door to the bathroom and shuffled inside.   
There was no one in the showers, so Seamus wriggled out of his clothes slowly and stepped beneath the warm water, letting it wash through his hair and over his aching body. He felt better as he stood beneath the water, and he tilted his head a little bit to let it wash over his face.  
He could almost pretend he was fine here. With nothing but himself and the water, everything else seemed far away. He brushed his hands over his wet hair and looked down at his feet.   
Blood slowly washed off his skin, mixing with the water as it slowly dripped down the drain.   
Seamus’ heart lurched, and he looked himself over, trying to figure out where it was coming from. He had cuts on his body, more than he could count, but he couldn’t find one that was bleeding. He touched his face, and his hands came away red. It was hard to breathe. He turned the water off hastily and grabbed a towel from the hanger next to the stall, wrapping it around himself and stumbling out of the shower to the sinks. He held onto the porcelain basin tightly and tried to even his breathing.   
Would he see his parents again? Were they even still together? Would they stay together?  
Would Harry ever actually come back?  
Would any of them leave Hogwarts? Seamus thought of being trapped within the walls of the school forever, hiding like a beaten dog in the Room of Requirement until he was an old man. He’d never see his parents again, never see so many of his friends that hadn’t come back to school, never see Dean--  
Seamus leaned over the sink and retched.   
His whole world could be destroyed, and he wouldn’t even know. His parents had stopped writing, his letters to Dean went unanswered, and scraps of the world outside of Hogwarts’ walls were nearly impossible to get his hands on. A stray newspaper here and there and the radio were the only ties to the real world he had, and none of them carried news of Dean. Seamus wiped his mouth on his hand and looked at himself in the mirror.   
He couldn’t even recognize himself. The person that stared back at him was hollow, beaten and bruised, one of his eyes half swollen shut and a fat cut running from his jaw to his neck. He touched it gingerly, and his fingers came back red. Seamus turned the sink on and washed his hands.   
He wouldn’t fall apart. He would hold himself together-- for his parents, for Harry, for Neville, and Parvati, and Lavender. For Dean. He splashed some water on his face and looked at himself in the mirror again. He could do this. He didn’t know how, and he doubted that he would make it through whatever was to come, but he couldn’t-- wouldn’t-- fall apart. He wouldn’t lose hope. Dean could be out there somewhere, trying to get back to him. Trying to get home. And until he was back in Seamus’ arms or confirmed dead, Seamus wouldn’t fall apart. He dried his hands off on his towel and shuffled over to the shower again, pulling on his clothes and slowly drying his hair with his towel.   
The door to the bathroom opened just as he hung up his towel. Parvati had her hand over her eyes as she stuck her head into the bathroom. “Seamus?”  
“I’m dressed, you can look.”  
Parvati removed her hand from her face. Her eyes were bright with excitement. “Someone’s at the Hog’s Head,” she said. “Seamus, it might be Harry.”  
_I don’t care about Harry,_ Seamus almost said. _I don’t want Harry back, I want Dean._ He smiled instead. He wouldn’t fall apart. He wouldn’t fall apart. He’d promised. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see.” Parvati beamed at him, and he watched her disappear again. The door closed behind her. Seamus tried to follow her, but his feet wouldn’t move.  
He could be strong. He kept saying it, even as his lower lip trembled. He was too exhausted to keep going, in too much pain to continue. He didn’t care anymore. He was done. He gave up. He closed his eyes. He could hear Dean’s voice in his head, could hear his laugh, the way his voice changed when he smiled, the way it got soft when he was upset. He could follow Dean’s voice anywhere, let it guide him where he wanted to go with ease.  
But it wasn’t there. It wasn’t there to tell him not to give up. It might never be there. He might never hear Dean’s laugh again, never hear a joke, never hear the way Dean said his name, like it was something delicate and sweet on his tongue. Seamus opened his eyes, took a breath, and walked out of the bathroom. He wouldn’t grieve. He couldn’t.   
Not yet.


	12. Chapter 12

May 1998

 

There was nothing especially settling to Dean about the beach. 

He didn’t mind the beach, but it wasn’t where he wanted to be. He hadn’t asked for convalescence in the countryside, he didn’t want it. He wanted to help, he wanted to fight. Or, at least, he wanted to do something that didn’t require him just sitting around waiting to be told what to do. He couldn’t enjoy the sight of the sun setting over the beach. He kept trying, but it wasn’t something he could teach himself. He sighed and got up, turning away from his window and walking out into the hallway. 

Ron’s brother was nice enough.  Dean liked him well enough, even if he didn’t want to be there. But he didn’t have anywhere else he could go safely. He and Luna were prisoners here just as they’d been before, only with nicer furnishings. Dean walked across the hall to Luna’s room and knocked. 

“Come in.”

Dean opened her door and peered inside. Luna was sitting with her legs pulled up against her chest, twirling a coin between her fingers idly. “How are you feeling?” he asked as he walked over to her. The cut on her cheek had finally started to fade into a scar. Luna wasn’t fussed about covering it up. She wasn’t ashamed of it, like Dean was of his own scars. He sat down on the window seat next to her.

Luna nodded slowly. “Oh, I’m alright,” she said, looking at him. “Fleur was showing me how to cook earlier, she has some recipes from France that I haven’t tried yet.” She looked back down at the coin. “We’ll probably have to leave soon.”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, I know,” he said. “But I don’t know where we’d go…”

Luna shook her head. “Well I’ve been talking to Neville, and he said--”

“I’m sorry, you’ve been what?” Dean’s head felt like it was full of helium, ready to take off at any moment. Luna looked at him again. “You’ve been talking to Neville? How?”

Luna held up the coin. “We all got these for the D.A., remember?” she said. Dean could’ve punched himself. He’d been an idiot. How could he have forgotten? He reached into his pocket and found his wallet, pulling it out of his pocket, flipping it open and pulling the coin out. He turned it in his hand. He was an idiot. Luna looked down at her coin. “I was just going to come get you, actually. Neville says ‘Lightning has struck at Hogwarts.’” She looked up at Dean. “That must mean Harry’s at the school. Should we go?”

Dean was certain he wasn’t breathing. He stared at Luna for a full minute before he jumped up off the window seat, clutching his coin in his hand so tightly it hurt. “We need to go now,” he said. “Just-- get ready to go.”

“Do you think there’s going to be a big fight?” Luna asked, standing up and reaching over to pick her shoes up off the floor so she could put them on. Dean nodded. 

“Probably,” he told her. “But our friends need us.” Harry needed them. Ron needed them. Hermione needed them. And, perhaps most importantly of all,  _ Dean _ needed them. He needed to be with his friends again, he needed to know they were alive, that they were safe. He needed to be able to talk to them, and hug them, and reassure himself that things could actually be okay, even if it was just for a moment. He met Luna’s gaze, and she smiled a little bit at him.

“Okay,” she said. She smiled a little wider. “We get to go back to Hogwarts.”

Dean longed to see the old school again. He looked down at his coin, and the little message on the outside-- 

_ Lightning has struck at Hogwarts. Get to the Hog’s Head. We’re fighting.  _

Dean closed his hand around the coin. They were fighting. But perhaps even more importantly than all of it, he was going back to the place that had made him, that had shown him all he could be and given him so much since he first walked in the doors seven years ago. 

He was going home.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: references to torture

May 1998

 

“Look--”

But Harry didn’t get to finish what he was saying. The portrait swung open for a second time, and standing there was Luna and Dean. Luna looked more gaunt than she had last time he’d seen her, but she still had that dreamy look in her eyes as she looked to Neville. “We got your message, Neville.” Her gaze turned to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. “Hello you three, I thought you must be here.”

Dean was looking at Seamus. And that was all that mattered in that moment; Seamus let out a roar of delight, of relief, of a thousand unspoken feelings bottled into one thunderous shout, and ran through the crowds, pushing his way past a few people so that he could launch himself into Dean’s arms. 

“What the fuck happened to your face?” Dean whispered in his ear, voice half scolding, half worried. His grip didn’t loosen on Seamus at all, though, and Seamus held onto him tighter. He could feel tears pricking at his eyes, and he ignored how much it stung to cry. 

“Those are the first words you say to me?” he demanded. “Some friend you are.”

But Dean was here. Dean was alive. He looked like he’d been through hell, he was bruised and scarred and gaunt, but he was in Seamus’ arms, safe and here and  _ alive _ . And it didn’t matter that there were dozens of people around them, that there was a crisis happening, that in less than an hour, their entire world was going to go to shit. Dean was with him again, and he felt whole for the first time in months. He looked up and met Dean’s gaze, and Dean looked down at him. Dean’s eyes was searching, worried, but Seamus was just looking at him, taking in every detail of Dean’s face, every little part he’d started to forget. Every blemish and freckle and eyelash that he’d missed. He stood on his tiptoes--

He’d barely moved an inch before Ginny appeared over Dean’s shoulder, climbing down into the room through the tunnel entrance. Fred, George, and Lee were close on her heels, all pushing them out of the way, searching for Harry among the crowd. Dean kept an arm around Seamus and tugged him out of their path. He didn’t let go of Seamus’ shoulders, and Seamus kept his hand fisted in Dean’s jumper, half expecting to lose him in the crowd. He looked up at him, but Dean’s focus was temporarily on the tunnel entrance as Cho joined the group, breezing past Harry to move to stand by Michael Corner. 

“I got the message,” she said to Harry, who looked dumbfounded. 

“So what’s the plan, Harry?” George chimed in. It might’ve been Fred, though. Seamus had never been able to tell them apart, and he wasn’t trying to right now anyway. He was still looking at Dean. He watched his eyes dart back and forth as people spoke, as they clamored for Harry to have some sort of plan. He wasn’t entirely sure why they all expected Harry to have a plan; Seamus hadn’t known Harry to have a plan once in his life, and he wasn’t certain why they all expected him to have one now. 

“You’ve got to stop this!” Harry exclaimed, gaze on Neville, who’d stepped up as the leader of the group. Not that Seamus minded Neville taking the lead; he’d rather follow Neville’s toad Trevor than listen to Michael Corner try and lead them, or any of the others among them. “What did you call them all back for?” Seamus’ grip on Dean’s jumper tightened a fraction. “This is insane--”

“We’re fighting, aren’t we?” Dean demanded, and Seamus jumped as he spoke, his gaze returning to Dean’s face again, then his hand as it pulled his fake Galleon out of his pocket. “The message said Harry was back, and we were going to fight! I’ll have to get a wand, though--”

“You haven’t got a  _ wand-- _ ?” The words were barely a squeak out of Seamus’ mouth, and were stunned enough to get Dean to look at him. He shrugged his shoulders helplessly at him. 

“Snatchers,” he said simply, and Seamus continued to stare at him. Dean gave him a small squeeze. “I’m okay. Better than you are. Your face…” His thumb brushed gingerly against Seamus’ cheek, over a scar Seamus didn’t think would ever fade. The others were all still debating and arguing among themselves; they had faded away temporarily, pushed to the back of Seamus’ mind as Dean touched his cheek. He gave a small shrug. 

“Change of curriculum around here,” he said. Dean opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again. Harry was talking again, and they both turned back to listen. Seamus wasn’t fully paying attention, though; he should be, he knew, but he had Dean back. Dean was skinnier than he’d been in August, his body leaner, but the arm around his waist could feel that there were muscles there that hadn’t been before. There were bags under Dean’s eyes, his hair was longer, there was a beard starting on his face. He smelled different too; he didn’t smell like home like he used to, like the Gryffindor common room smelled to him, like broom polish and shampoo and something warm and familiar. He smelled like salt and seawater, something cleaner and different than what he’d expected after Dean had been on the run for so long. Wherever he’d been, at least he was safe now. Though for how long that would last, Seamus wasn’t sure. He didn’t suspect it would be all that long.

Harry and Luna were splitting off from the crowd, though he’d lost track as to why, and the rest of the group seemed to just be waiting, and mingling. Dean’s gaze finally turned back to Seamus. “Can we talk?”

Seamus nodded, and with his hand still on Dean’s jumper, towed him through the crowds over to the corner of the room. His eyes kept darting upwards to look at Dean, waiting for him to say something, but Dean was too distracted by the upgrades to the Room of Requirement to say anything until they reached Seamus’ hammock. He glanced at the sketches Dean had drawn for him tacked up all over the wall next to his space, and the small stack of envelopes containing Dean’s letters poorly concealed beneath his pillow, before he looked over at Dean for a moment. Dean was examining the sketches, face immobile as he looked at his own handiwork. He didn’t look at Seamus when he spoke. 

“I wasn’t sure you’d get these,” he admitted, and Seamus paused, squinting as he looked up at him. “I never heard anything back from you, I guess I figured my letters hadn’t gone through.”

“I sent you letters,” Seamus said, and Dean looked at him. “Almost every week.”

Dean shook his head. “I didn’t get any of them.” He leaned against the wall, looking down at Seamus. “Are you really okay? You look worse than I do.”

“Everyone looks worse than you do.” Seamus didn’t know what he was doing. He probably sounded like an idiot, but he was nervous. He’d never been nervous around Dean, not really. This was different. This was heart pounding, ear reddening, throat drying nervousness. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Dean nodded, though it was an empty gesture. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He looked around. “So what happened to this place? Why are you all living here?”

Seamus’ expression fell a bit, reluctant to talk about it. “You’ve missed a lot. This place is… it’s not like you remember it. I know we’ve had…” He paused, counting. “At least two professors that were Death Eaters, but at least they were sneaky about it. They don’t have the same consideration when the school’s being run by one of them.”

Dean pursed his lips and frowned at him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it had gotten so bad,” he told him. “I knew Snape was Headmaster, but I never thought he’d…” Seamus shook his head, waving it off. Dean reached up and put his hand on Seamus’ shoulder. Seamus held onto Dean’s wrist, looking him over again. He looked so tired. It was like someone had taken the Dean he’d known and left him outside too long, like he’d been weathered, worn down, and this was what was left. He had a few fresh scars, small ones on his face, paler against his dark skin. Seamus kept looking him over. He looked at the hand on his shoulder, then his arm--

There were letters carved into Dean’s skin. “What are--”

Dean hastily dropped his hand from Seamus’ shoulder and pulled his sleeve down to cover the letters. “It’s fine,” he said quickly. 

“Dean.”

“I really don’t want to talk about it.” His voice was strained, almost in pain. Seamus’ lower lip trembled. What had happened to Dean? He opened his mouth to ask, but Dean was shaking his head. “I just-- I don’t know how much time we’re gonna’ have before Harry gets back and we have to go do… whatever it is we’re going to do. I don’t wanna’ focus on that before we have to go…” He took a deep breath and exhaled. “I just wanna’ be with you.”

Seamus nodded his head slowly. “I’m here.” He reached down and took Dean’s hand, intertwining their fingers. He leaned against Dean’s shoulder and closed his eyes. 

“Have you heard anything about my family?” Dean’s voice made him open his eyes again, and he glanced up at him. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I asked Da to keep in touch with them. He and Mam have split until thing settle down, so I figured it was safe. But they’re okay, last I checked. Worried like mad about you. I tried to get word to Da whenever I got one of your letters, just so they’d know you were still alive.”

Dean was quiet for a moment before he nodded his head slowly. “Thank you,” he said. “For doing that. I was too scared to, and then when I was--” His voice caught. “When I was safe again, I just didn’t know what to say to them…”

Seamus nodded. “Well, when this is all over, maybe I can help you figure out what to say to them,” he said. Dean smiled at him softly. It felt like confirmation to Seamus, and his heart skipped a beat as he looked up at him.

“Are you still mad at me for leaving?” Dean asked. 

Seamus let out a breath and shook his head. “Yeah, I’m mad. How could I not be mad? You didn’t take me with you. That was-- I should’ve been with you.”

Dean raised his eyebrows while Seamus spoke, but shook his head when Seamus had finished, ignoring his answer and asking another question. “Did you miss me?”

Seamus scoffed. “‘Course I did, you tosspot,” he said. Dean’s lips twitched upwards slightly. “Why’d you kiss me before you left?”

Dean’s small smile faded as quickly as it had come, and he dropped his gaze from Seamus’. His shoulders rose and fell, and he shook his head. “Because I didn’t know if I would get the chance to again,” he said after a pause that felt like a lifetime. “And because if you didn’t… if you weren’t  _ okay _ with it, I didn’t have to be there for you being mad at me. I know that’s shitty, and I know it was stupid, but I just... I  _ wanted _ to kiss you. More than I’ve ever wanted anything. Or anyone.” He paused again before he looked up and met Seamus’ gaze. His brows furrowed with worry. “Are you mad at me for kissing you?”

Seamus sighed and shook his head. “No,” he told him, and Dean’s eyebrows shot up with surprise. “I’m mad at you for leaving me behind.”

Dean’s breath left him in one big rush, and he nodded. “That’s fair.” Seamus thought he might hesitate, but he didn’t; Dean stepped forward, no longer leaning against the wall, and kissed him. It was different than the first time; Dean’s beard was rough against his face, his lips chapped, his breath soft against Seamus’ cheek. Seamus didn’t know where to put his hands, whether to put his arms around Dean’s neck or put them on his hips. After a moment, Dean pulled back, and Seamus met his gaze. 

“Can we maybe try that again?” he asked, trying to not look as embarrassed as he felt. But Dean laughed softly, and the sound was by far the sweetest he’d ever heard. Dean nodded. 

“As many times as you want,” he promised, and he kissed him again. Seamus put his arms around Dean’s neck, standing on his tiptoes and raising his chin so that Dean’s lips could meet his own with greater ease. There was a sweetness in Dean’s mouth, a warmth in kissing him, something that felt buried deep down that finally was able to set itself free. It was that same feeling he’d gotten a hundred times before, that jealousy combined with confusion and longing that he’d never been able to understand or explain, it just  _ was _ . It was part of who he was, it was part of his nature. And perhaps it was love, perhaps that’s what love was meant to be. Seamus had never known love in his life, had never seen or felt it for himself. But he had known Dean, and knowing Dean was better than anything else the world could offer him. 

“Seamus! Seamus, Harry’s back!” Parvati’s voice was like a gunshot, and Seamus jumped when she spoke, taking a half step back from Dean that tugged him off balance when the two of them realized that Seamus was still holding two fistfuls of Dean’s jumper in his hands. He looked around Dean’s arm to Parvati standing a few feet back, hand over her eyes for a moment before she peeked cautiously through her fingers. She smiled at Seamus, then at Dean. “Hi, Dean.”

“Hey, Parvati.” Seamus looked up at Dean’s flushed face, and he bit his lower lip to hold back a laugh. Dean looked down at him and scoffed, rolling his eyes at Seamus’ expression and barely suppressed laughter. Seamus glanced back at Parvati, who gave him a thumbs up before she turned back and hurried into the crowd Seamus had completely forgotten was there, undoubtedly hurrying back to her place at Lavender’s side. 

Dean didn’t let go of Seamus’ hand, not even when they all flooded out into the hallway, and Seamus felt himself being jostled around by the chaos of the crowd moving around him. He held on tightly to Dean’s hand, their intertwined fingers the only constant as they hurried along with the others, the one thing he had to focus on. 

And the stunning, horrible, terrifying realization that he could lose Dean all over again tonight. He looked up at Dean, who was focused on moving forward. “Dean--” 

Dean looked down at him, and his grip on his hand tightened. “I know,” he said, so quietly that Seamus nearly didn’t hear him over the pounding of feet all around them. “Me too.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: death. lots and lots of death.

Seamus kept telling himself that if he didn’t let go of Dean’s hand, they would be fine. If he just held on, kept his painfully tight grip on Dean’s wrist, he wouldn’t lose him. The fighting was absolute chaos; Seamus barely knew what was happening, could barely register what was going on around them. Spells flew over their heads, zipped past them; students, teachers, and Death Eaters were crawling through the rapidly deteriorating school in a manic game of tag, and Seamus wasn’t entirely convinced that he wasn’t dead yet. 

“Have you seen Harry?” Seamus shouted at Dean. 

“No, have you seen Luna?” Seamus glanced around for any sign of her, but there wasn’t even a glimpse of Luna’s pale hair in the crowd. Dean sounded panicked at her loss, but shot another hex into the crowds anyway. His grip on Seamus’ hand hadn’t loosened either. “We should get to the stairs!”

“Okay!” Seamus started pulling them both towards the stairs, where he could see a small group of students had jammed themselves. Cho Chang, Michael Corner, and Katie Bell jostled together, shooting spells and curses over the heads of the others at the Death Eaters on the far side of the hall. Seamus watched as Angelina Johnson shoved her way through towards them and climb up beside her friends. Seamus kept moving towards them slowly, hauling Dean along with him. They could survive this. He had to believe that they’d make it through this. 

Dean shouted, and Seamus spun to look back at him. The sight made him want to be sick. Giant spiders the size of horses were flooding in through the open door of the Great Hall, trampling students and Death Eaters alike. The crowd scattered, and Seamus ran, dragging Dean along with him as he sprinted for the stairs. Angelina saw them coming and put out her hand. 

“Come on!” she shouted. “Come on, you’re almost there!”

“Dean, go!” Seamus shoved Dean in front of him and watched as Angelina pulled him up onto their little perch by the stairs. Katie put her hand down for Seamus to take, and she pulled him up. Seamus’ breath felt like it had weight, pulling his lungs down and making his entire chest ache. He looked at Dean. “This is the worst first date you’ve ever taken anyone on.”

Dean laughed breathlessly, looking like he was ready to cry as he did. Seamus smiled at him briefly before he straightened and looked around the hall. The spiders had passed them by, and were far more interested in chasing those that were stuck amid their cluster. Seamus tried to spot Luna, but he didn’t see her. He looked back at Dean. “Maybe she’s…”

But he didn’t get to finish before someone screamed his name. His head whipped around, and he saw Parvati pressing herself in the narrow space between one of the stone statues near the door and the wall, trying to avoid the spiders that crawled past her. Seamus met Dean’s gaze, and Dean sighed. 

“I really fucking hate spiders.” They jumped back down from their perch again, ignoring the protests of the others, and started dodging their way across the hall. Seamus could hear swearing behind him, and glanced around to see that Angelina was following them, holding onto her wand tightly and looking angry enough that she could punch a spider and kill it with a single blow. 

But they were not the only ones among the cluster. Seamus saw a few students in their midst. He shot a few hexes in the direction of an ugly spider chasing a very panicked looking Eloise Midgen around before he kept moving forward. There were Death Eaters too, but none of them seemed to care that Seamus and the others were in the hall, only that the spiders didn’t seem to care which side anyone was on. Seamus dodged a spider’s leg and practically slammed into the wall beside Parvati’s hiding place. She had burst into tears, her eyes wide with terror, and she shook violently as Seamus grabbed her shoulders to steady her. 

“S-Seamus, they k-killed Lavender,” she sobbed. “They k-killed her--” Seamus felt like he’d been punched. “She f-fell and he-- I couldn’t reach her, I got pushed by the--” She pressed her face against Seamus’ chest and sobbed. Seamus wrapped his arms around her and looked up at Dean. He didn’t know what to say. Dean didn’t know what to say either, and they just stared at each other. What if it had been Dean that had died? Seamus knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it together if he lost Dean. Maybe Dean could manage without him, but Dean was part of him, half of who Seamus was. He couldn’t be himself without Dean. And he knew Parvati’s feelings for Lavender mirrored his towards Dean. 

“We need to go!” Angelina shouted at them, throwing a hex at the nearest spider. “Guys, now!”

“Parvati, come on.” Dean put his hand on Parvati’s shoulder, and she looked up at him. “It’s not safe here, we need to go.”

Parvati wiped her face on her hand and tried to stop herself from crying. Dean glanced at Seamus before nodding at Angelina. She started clearing the way back to the stairs, and Dean pushed Seamus and Parvati in front of him so he could cover the rear. Seamus held onto Parvati tightly, and she clutched his jumper as they shuffled towards the steps again. A hex flew over their heads, but it was oddly quiet. The spiders had mostly moved on, it seemed, and reaching the stairs wasn’t as hard as they thought it would be. Seamus was relieved for it. They reached the stairs, and Michael pulled Parvati up before reaching down to help Seamus. Cho put a hand out for Dean, and Katie for Angelina, and the seven of them stood there looking out over the destroyed hall. 

“This can’t be how it all ends,” Katie said quietly. Seamus looked at her, and was stunned to see she was crying. “This can’t be it.”

Seamus followed her gaze. He wanted to break down. He wanted to lose it, he wanted to scream. Katie was right-- this couldn’t be it. This couldn’t be how Hogwarts fell, this couldn’t be how the war ended. White hot anger boiled in him, and he looked down the hall to where there was still fighting. He looked at Cho, who was holding onto Parvati to keep her from crumpling to the ground. “Find Padma. Okay?” Cho nodded. Seamus looked at the others. “Michael, stay with Cho. Katie, Angelina? Stick together. Dean?” He looked up at Dean. Dean took his hand. 

“I’m with you.” 

Seamus nodded. “Okay.” He looked at the others. “Good luck.” He jumped down from their perch and ran out of the hall and into one of the side corridors, Dean following along close behind. He could hear the fighting again, see the swarming of bodies and the flashes of spells. He aimed a hex at a Death Eater and watched them drop before he shoved his way into the crowd itself. Dean was behind him somewhere; it was like sprinting into quicksand as he found himself sucked into the crowd faster than he’d thought was possible. He looked behind him. 

He couldn’t see Dean anywhere. 

“Dean!” He tried to turn back, and dodged a red curse flying at his head. “Dean!”

“Seamus!” Seamus spun to see Ernie MacMillan running at him, Luna hot on his tail. She smiled at Seamus. 

“Oh, hello again!”

“Luna!” He grabbed onto her arm when she was close enough. “I can’t find Dean, have you seen him?”

She shook her head. “No, but we saw Harry go out that way,” she said, and pointed at a giant hole in the wall leading out to the grounds. “We’re going to try and find him.”

“Come with us!” Ernie said. Seamus wanted to protest. But Ernie grabbed his arm and pulled him into a run, and the three of them sprinted out of the castle and into the night. 

A horrible screaming filled the air, and Seamus looked up to see two giants slamming their fists into each other’s ugly faces. “What the fuc--”

“There he is!” Ernie pointed, and Seamus looked over to see Harry, Ron, and Hermione, impossibly small as what must’ve been a hundred dementors pushed in towards them. He saw Ron’s patronus last for only a second before it faded, and Hermione’s otter spun pitifully before vanishing. Seamus lifted his wand. He pictured Dean’s face when he’d seen him in the Room of Requirement. 

_ “Expecto Patronum!” _

A silver fox burst into the air, sprinting towards the dementors. Luna’s hare and Ernie’s boar followed along after it, slamming into the dementors like a hammer. Seamus ran after the patronuses, his wand remaining outstretched to keep his patronus from fading. Nights in the dormitory, cheering at Quidditch games, Dean kissing him. He wouldn’t let it flicker. He wouldn’t let it fade away. 

“That’s right,” Luna was saying as they reached the others. She put her hand on Harry’s shoulder. Harry looked half dead as he sagged on the ground. “That’s right, Harry… come on, think of something happy…”

“Something happy?” Seamus didn’t think Harry could actually remember what happiness felt like. 

Luna nodded. “We’re all still here,” she said. “We’re still fighting. Come on, now…”

She was right, and Harry seemed to realize that too. His wand flickered, and a stag finally erupted in front of them, cutting through the dementors after Luna’s hare and scattering the remaining dementors. Seamus looked down at the others, and Ron was rising to his feet shakily. 

“Can’t thank you enough,” he said. “You just saved--”

The whole ground shook. Seamus looked up to see another giant thundering across the grounds towards the other too. He didn’t wait to see what the others were doing; he ran. He didn’t know where he was going-- or where he was, even-- but he just ran. There was screaming around him, spells flying through the air. Seamus saw a hole in the wall and ran towards it. Something caught his foot, and he screamed as he went down. 

His ears were ringing. Seamus pushed his face up out of the grass and looked behind him for what had tripped him. It was a body. Seamus stared at the blank eyes of Colin Creevey and felt like he was going to be sick. He stumbled back to his feet and ran. 

Colin was dead. Lavender was dead. Countless others were undoubtedly dead. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t keep fighting, he couldn’t live through this--

“Seamus!”

Seamus looked to his left and saw Dean sprinting towards him as fast as he could. His body moved out of pure instinct, and he ran to him, colliding with Dean so hard that he thought his ribs might break with the force of it. He pressed his face against Dean’s shoulder, and he didn’t even care that it hurt to do it. Dean was alive. 

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he hissed. “Are you okay?”

“Colin’s dead.” Dean pulled back so he could look at Seamus. He pointed. “H-His body--”

“We need to go.” Dean grabbed his hand. “Come on, we need to--”

_ “YOU HAVE FOUGHT… VALIANTLY.” _ Dean and Seamus both looked up at the sky as the cold, sickening voice of Lord Voldemort rang through the air.  _ “LORD VOLDEMORT KNOWS HOW TO VALUE BRAVERY.”  _

Now Seamus was certain he was going to be sick. 

_ “YET YOU HAVE SUSTAINED HEAVY LOSSES. IF YOU CONTINUE TO RESIST ME, YOU WILL ALL DIE, ONE BY ONE. I DO NOT WISH THIS TO HAPPEN. EVERY DROP OF MAGICAL BLOOD SPILLED IS A LOSS AND A WASTE.” _

Seamus’ grip on Dean tightened. Dean’s face had gone very still, and Seamus could see he was clenching his jaw. 

_ “LORD VOLDEMORT IS MERCIFUL. I COMMAND MY FORCES TO RETREAT IMMEDIATELY.  YOU HAVE ONE HOUR. DISPOSE OF YOUR DEAD WITH DIGNITY. TREAT YOUR INJURED.” _ Seamus wanted to scream at the sky. He opened his mouth to speak, but Voldemort continued talking.  _ “I SPEAK NOW, HARRY POTTER, DIRECTLY TO YOU. YOU HAVE PERMITTED YOUR FRIENDS TO DIE FOR YOU RATHER THAN FACE ME YOURSELF. I SHALL WAIT FOR ONE HOUR IN THE FORBIDDEN FOREST. IF, AT THE END OF THAT HOUR, YOU HAVE NOT COME TO ME, HAVE NOT GIVEN YOURSELF UP, THEN BATTLE RECOMMENCES. THIS TIME, I SHALL ENTER THE FRAY MYSELF, HARRY POTTER, AND I SHALL FIND YOU, AND I SHALL PUNISH EVERY LAST MAN, WOMAN, AND CHILD WHO HAS TRIED TO CONCEAL YOU FROM ME. ONE HOUR.” _

Silence fell. Seamus watched the flood of Death Eaters rush in a hasty retreat across the lawn. No one dared break the truce; they let them go. Seamus held onto Dean and closed his eyes. One hour, and it was over. One hour, and they would all be dead. 

“Seamus…” He looked up at Dean. He was still holding onto him tightly, and he didn’t dare let go. Dean brushed his hand through Seamus’ hair. “We should find the others.”

Seamus nodded dumbly, and they walked back into the castle. The dead were everywhere, good and bad alike. Seamus tried not to look at them. He thought of Katie’s words--  _ this can’t be how it all ends _ . Maybe it was. Seamus knew they wouldn’t stop fighting. He knew it wouldn’t end until they were all dead. 

Dean stopped walking, and Seamus bumped into him. He looked at Dean, and saw that Dean was staring intently at one of the bodies. Seamus followed his gaze, and felt his heart drop. 

Padma Patil was lying completely still on the ground, the side of her head bloody and her wand resting in her limp hand. A shiver ran through Dean’s body that Seamus could feel. He let go of his hand and watched as Dean crouched next to Padma’s body. He touched her head gingerly. 

One of Padma’s eyes flickered open, and Seamus stopped breathing. She blinked at them, and her brows furrowed slowly. “Did… did we win?”

“Not yet.” Dean sounded ready to burst into tears. “Can you stand?”

“I think so.” She took Dean’s hand and pulled herself slowly to her feet, grimacing as she did so. Dean put his arm around her waist, and she held onto him tightly. 

“Let’s get to the Great Hall,” he said, and Seamus nodded. Padma looked between the two of them slowly. 

“Is Parvati…?” she asked. “Have you seen her?”

Seamus nodded. “She was fine when we last saw her,” he said, though that meant little. Others had died; Parvati could be dead too. But Padma looked relieved, and they made their way slowly to the Great Hall. 

People had already gathered there, organizing themselves as much as they could. Seamus looked at the lines of the dead laid out on the floor and looked away hastily. He wouldn’t try to identify their faces. He wouldn’t be able to keep it together if he did. He looked around for the others instead, trying to find Parvati in the crowds of injured people. “I don’t see…”

“Padma!” He didn’t get to say more before he saw Parvati, face puffy and tearstained, sprinting across the Great Hall as fast as she could. Padma broke free from Dean, and the sisters rushed to each other, holding on as tightly as they could the second they were in each other’s arms. Both were sobbing with relief. Seamus looked away, glancing up at Dean instead. 

Dean wiped his face with his sleeve, desperate to pretend that he wasn’t crying. Seamus held onto him tightly, and Dean looked at him before wrapping his arms around him too. “I’m scared,” he whispered against Dean’s chest. He could hear Dean’s breath catch. 

“Me too.”

“Will you stay with me?”

Seamus looked up at him, and Dean nodded. “I’m never leaving you again. I promise.”

Seamus didn’t let himself question it. He knew neither of them could promise that they’d make it through. But just this once, he would pretend. Just this once, he would let himself imagine a future where he and Dean were together five, ten years from this moment. They would fight, they would heal, and then, if they were lucky, they would live their lives, together. Seamus pressed his face against Dean’s shoulder again. “What do we do now?”

He felt Dean shake his head, his chin brushing against Seamus’ hair. “We wait,” he said quietly. “And then, we fight.”

“Together?”

Dean kissed the top of Seamus’ head. “Until the very end.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: references to torture / death / some nsfw content ( not super explicit )

May 1998

 

Seamus watched the sun rise over the Quidditch pitch with an odd sense of finality.

The fighting was done, the war over, the body of Voldemort disposed of and the dead buried in neat little lines. The injured had been taken to St. Mungo’s, and now there was nothing left but the shell of what Hogwarts had once been.

Dean sat next to him in the stands, his arm draped over Seamus’ shoulders as he looked out over the Quidditch pitch. It hadn’t escaped damage either, and they watched the tattered banners of the houses flutter meekly in the wind. A few of the goal posts had been knocked down, though Seamus knew that at least one of them had been used as a club by one of the giants. It was a disaster, and Seamus didn’t know if the field would ever look the same again. 

“Do you think they’ll rebuild it?” Dean asked. Seamus looked at him. “Hogwarts, I mean. There’s not much left to it.”

Seamus shrugged a little bit. “Maybe,” he said. “I hope they do.”

“Yeah, me too.” They fell into silence again for a long moment, just watching the shadows slowly recede as the sun rose in the sky. Dean finally looked at Seamus again. “I don’t know what to do with myself,” he admitted. “I’ve been on the run for so long, I… I dunno’. I don’t feel like I can go back to what normal was before.”

Seamus shook his head. “Me neither,” he said. “It’s just-- I don’t want to just give up on finding something normal, y’know what I mean? Things are never going to go back to normal unless we try.” He took a breath and exhaled. “If they rebuild the school, I’m gonna’ come back.”

_ “What?” _

“I wanna’ finish.”

Dean frowned at him. “We don’t have to, though,” he said. “I mean, McGonagall said we could all just graduate now and move on. Get a fresh start.”

“Is that what you wanna’ do?” Seamus looked at Dean again. “Have a fresh start?”

“I wanna’ be with you,” he said. Seamus’ heart jumped in his chest. “I’ll figure the rest out. I just don’t know right now.” He sighed, and pressed a kiss to Seamus’ temple. “I never thought you’d be the ‘go to school’ advocate.”

Seamus snorted. “I don’t  _ mind _ school when it isn’t taught by sociopaths,” he said. Dean chuckled, and Seamus smiled at him for a moment before his smile faded. He looked at Dean’s arm. “Will you tell me what happened?”

Dean looked down at his arm and pursed his lips. “Okay,” he said after a long moment. “What do you want to know?”

Seamus shook his head. “Everything.”

Parts of it were easy to talk about. They sat in the bleachers and shared stories, trying to fill each other in on the year that they’d missed. Seamus joked, Dean teased, and hands that bumped playfully at each other ended up intertwined together as story jumped from anecdote to tale. 

There were some things, though, that proved harder to talk about. But even those moments felt easier together. Dean told him about Ted and Dirk and Gornuk, about how scared he’d been, how close to dying he’d gotten more than once. He showed him scars on his body, let Seamus trace them with his fingertips, the word mudblood carved into his arm and the others that had come with it. He told him about burying Dobby at Shell Cottage, and recovering from everything there with Luna, and meeting Ron’s brother. Seamus listened, and reached up to wipe at Dean’s tears, and pull him against his chest when Dean couldn’t continue anymore. Seamus told him about the Carrows, and the Cruciatus curse while he curled up in the safety of Dean’s arms. It was easier that way; the bad things felt like they were further away, things of the past. He told him about Parvati, and Neville, and all of it. His first night in the Room of Requirement. How he’d read through each of Dean’s letters like he was starving for them, desperate for any bit of information he could receive. Dean looked down at him when he stopped talking, drifting off halfway through a story as he just met Dean’s gaze, looking up at him. He traced his fingers along the back of Seamus’ hand. Over he faded scars of the words  _ I  must not tell lies _ . 

“I should've been here with you,” Dean mumbled, and Seamus could see that Dean looked guilty  “I should've been here with you.”

“No,” Seamus said, and Dean looked at him with surprise. “You should've taken me with you, tosspot.”

Dean couldn't help but laugh, and when Seamus leaned up, Dean’s lips were already there to meet his. 

“I’ve a whole year to make up to you,” Dean said when he pulled away. “To catch up on, to make up for…” 

“That’s right, you owe me a lot. It’s been almost a year, you complete tease.” Seamus could feel a laugh vibrate in Dean’s chest before the sound escaped him, and he felt full as Dean laughed against his lips. Dean’s laugh was his favorite sound, his favorite taste, and it filled him up so much that he found himself laughing too. He leaned in and kissed Dean again. His teeth bumped against Dean’s, tongues against lips and mouths missing each other completely as they both laughed. It was good. It was the happiest Seamus had been in a long time, and it was because of Dean. Dean,  _ his _ Dean, his best friend since he was eleven and the man who’d made him feel a thousand different emotions and so many forms of love long before their lips had even touched.

Dean’s kisses were still soft, but there was more power behind them, a tenderness matched with an intensity behind each movement. He pulled Seamus’ shirt up and over his head, and Seamus wiggled to quicken the action. Dean’s hands knew what they were doing, and Seamus tried his best to just shadow Dean’s movements until he got flustered trying to pull Dean’s shirt over his head. Dean laughed quietly, breathlessly, and shook his head. “Do you need a hand?”

“Shut it.” Seamus kissed him to make him quiet, even as Dean continued to giggle quietly. He swore; his hands were sweaty, and he was certain his face was completely red. He looked at Dean, who was still laughing at him. “It’s not funny!”

“It’s kind of funny,” Dean told him. He leaned up to kiss Seamus again, only briefly, before he pushed them both back. Seamus bumped his head against the bleachers as he landed, and immediately started laughing. 

“Ow,” he said, and Dean’s temple pressed against his shoulder as he laughed. Seamus shook his head, though he was still laughing too. “We’re terrible at this.”

“No we’re not, just stop laughing at me.” Dean lifted his head from Seamus’ shoulder and looked at him. He brushed Seamus’ hair back from his temple and chewed on his lower lip to try and stop himself from laughing. “Are you alright?”

Seamus nodded several times. “Just try not to bash my head into the bleachers again, yeah?” he said, and Dean burst into another fit of giggles. 

“No promises,” he told him, and kissed Seamus again. 

He never wanted to leave this place. He could stay here forever. The air was cold against his skin, but Dean’s body was warm against his. The sky grew lighter, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was Dean, and that they were here, together, after so long. They’d found their way back to each other. And now that Dean was with him again, Seamus knew that he never, ever wanted to let him go again. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i wrote an alternate ending too but this one makes more sense in the narrative so here we are.

September 2000

 

The Hogwarts Expressed pulled into Hogsmeade Station with a slow sense of purpose. Seamus looked out the window at the familiar landscape as it passed them by. He was nervous. Scared, even. It had been so long since he’d been there that it felt like he was in a dream. They pulled to a stop, and Seamus pulled his trunk down from the rack and headed to the door of his compartment, pushing out into the hall and following the flood of students out onto the platform. 

He was glad to be back. He was nervous too, but excited. This year would be different. Better. He was returning to the Hogwarts that he knew, that he loved, and doing what he’d always planned to do. He stepped out onto the platform and waited. 

Luna was the first one out on the platform, followed closely by Ernie, and Seamus smiled at the two of them as they joined him. Neville and Hannah were next, talking quietly to each other as they walked across the platform. Neville grinned like an idiot as Hannah spoke, and Seamus listened in for a moment to their animated discussion about plants before he tuned them out. His eyes scanned the platform anxiously. 

“Seamus, we should get a carriage,” Ernie said, nodding towards where the rest of the students were jostling to get a ride up to Hogwarts. Seamus looked over at the carriages and grimaced. He could see them now, the thestrals. The Battle of Hogwarts had changed that for him. He shuddered and looked away. 

“Just a minute,” he said. “You guys go ahead. I’ll be right there.”

“You sure?” Hannah said. “We can wait.”

Seamus shook his head. “Nah, go ahead. I’m just gonna’ wait another minute.”

“Okay, we’ll see you at the carriages, then.” Neville paused before he followed Ernie and Hannah towards the carriages. Luna looked at Seamus. 

“I didn’t see him on the train,” she said. Seamus glanced at her. “I don’t think he’s coming. Did he say anything to you?”

Seamus shook his head. “No. I didn’t want to push him on it, I just figured…” He sighed. There wasn’t anyone else coming off the train. “Let’s just go, then.”

Luna smiled and took Seamus’ hand briefly. “It’s okay,” she said. “Not everyone was going to come back.” She released his hand and started walking towards the carriages. “You know, my first article in  _ The Quibbler _ is all about that…”

Seamus smiled. “About people not coming back to Hogwarts?” he asked, following her. Luna nodded. 

“Oh, yes,” she said. “I just thought it was interesting. Ginny didn’t come back either, but she didn’t really need to, did she? And Harry too…”

“Well Harry  _ did _ kill Voldemort, so I feel like he’s allowed to not come back.” Seamus smiled, and Luna smiled back at him. They reached the carriages, and hurried towards the one in the back, where Hannah, Neville, and Ernie had all piled in along with a very awkward looking Daphne Greengrass. Seamus managed to smile at her. “Hey, Daphne.” She pursed her lips in an expression that was almost a smile and didn’t say anything. Seamus climbed up into the carriage along with Luna and looked at the others. “I guess this is it,” he said. “Last year.”

Hannah bounced a little in her seat. “Last year,” she echoed, smiling. The carriage in front of them started off down the road. Seamus looked after it until he heard someone shout his name. 

He turned to see Dean sprinting up the road towards them, waving his hands. 

“Son of a bitch.” Seamus hopped down out of the carriage and ran to Dean, laughing. “I thought you weren’t coming!”

“I overslept,” Dean said, half stumbling to a stop when he reached Seamus. He took Seamus’ face in his hands, kissing him briefly. “This is why you need to move in, so your dumb alarm can wake me up.”

“We’re going to be living in the same dormitory for a year,” Seamus laughed. Dean grinned. 

“And it’s going to annoy Neville so much,” he said. 

“Well then he can go hang out with Hannah and leave us alone.” Dean laughed and kissed Seamus again. Seamus giggled against Dean’s lips. “You had me worried there, I really thought you weren’t coming.”

Dean shrugged. “I didn’t think I was either,” he admitted. “But you were right. Things need to go back to normal. And making fun of people during classes is the most normal thing in the world.” He grinned at Seamus teasingly. Seamus never wanted to leave this moment. Dean looked at him like he’d always wanted to be looked at, like nothing else in the world mattered. And in the moment, nothing else did. Dean kissed him again before he pulled back abruptly, looking over Seamus’ shoulder.  _ “Shit.” _

Seamus spun around and swore as he watched their carriage trundle down the road. “Fucking shit fuck a--” He grabbed Dean’s hand and started running, waving his free hand at the carriage. “Hey! You forgot us!” Dean was laughing next to him. “It’s not funny!”

“No, it’s not that,” he said, still laughing. “I forgot my trunk.”

“What?” Seamus slowed to a stop. Dean didn’t seem able to stop himself from laughing, and he shook his head. “You forgot your trunk?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. It’s by the front door at my mum’s house.” His nose scrunched up as he kept laughing. Seamus stared at him for a moment before he started laughing too. 

“You’re so stupid,” he said, though his voice was fond through the laughter. Dean rolled his eyes, and put his arm around Seamus’ shoulder. 

“And you love me anyway,” he said. Seamus looped his arm around Dean’s waist. 

“I do.”

Dean chuckled. “Come on, then,” he said. “We’ve got a long walk ahead of us.”


End file.
